


A Lotus Ghost

by Millennium_Lotus



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: A Halloween fic!, Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Bookmen - Freeform, Ghosts, I tried to add some atmosphere, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Oneshot, Paranoid townsfolk, Spiritual, Yullen, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:35:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27290569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Millennium_Lotus/pseuds/Millennium_Lotus
Summary: There are two ghosts that reside in the woods. One of the Lotus lake, and the other of the Moon.
Relationships: Kanda Yuu/Allen Walker
Comments: 6
Kudos: 49





	A Lotus Ghost

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween!  
> Dedicated to all the Yullen fans! 
> 
> Disclaimer: Hoshino owns DGM  
> 

The trees, in the naked wood behind the mausoleum, are known to be stripped of all bark, looking like they’re grey and ashen.

It often comes as a surprise to newcomers of the town, that the mausoleum itself wasn’t the object of everyone’s fear, but the wood.

Elders of the town, those they call Bookmen, seem to be the wisest of what was the cause of fear. They spoke none of it though, because it was not their job to spout that the wood was haunted by two ghosts.

The first was known to have a transparent, obsidian form which would materialise, into a solid, sharp featured man. A man which reflected back, so beautifully and vividly, like an illusion, to those who wandered close to his lotus lake. Hunters in the wood often returned pale and forlorn in shock whenever passing the waters; claiming that no one should ever sip from the chilling lake as well. 

It was when one hunter – robust and strong, ran from the bare trees, sweat running down their face like tears – that the thoughts of the wood being haunted arose.

The town was in chaos, the Bookmen quietly watched the play of events, and as the glassy-eyed hunter told their story, the townspeople strayed closer to the bonfire which they built for light.

“There’s another!” The hunter hissed. “Another ghost! Not from the lake, but it appears elsewhere! It appears under the moonlight!” Shivering, they continued, “Hair white…eyes grey. Figure as silver as a sword. E-Except for their eye…their arm! Blood red! Crimson, I tell you!”

The townspeople called out to their elders in panic, and the Bookmen held no shock or surprise. Knowledge was their life, nothing new ever came to them except for the future, and even that was riddled in legends. One being the tale of two ghosts, whose souls had become Fallen, yet lingered, like residue, in the wood.

One, dark and loyal, would follow the second, sacrificing and grieving. No lone person could defeat this duo of ghosts, and if they were to be crossed wrongly, the ghosts were known to not tire until an enemy’s defeat. The one thing that was never foretold, or in definite stone, was the relationship between the two souls. Rumours ran from stories of deep hatred to companionship to a love unexpressed in words.

Nevertheless, the Bookmen all agreed and concluded that they will have no hand in the involvement, of the two ghosts that dwell in the woods.

With a fearful yet vexed roar, the townspeople didn’t care. With pitchforks and fire, they marched, spreading like veins in the wood. Torches guiding their path, as they obliviously passed the mausoleum which lay two coffins.

 _Yu Kanda_ was written on a tomb of dark oak, while the other, whose name was engraved in birch wood, was _Allen Walker_.

Only the Bookmen knew that those were the names owned by the duo of souls, that wandered the trees.

***

Over the lake, a sheen of light was given by the Moon.

Flickering into a visible form, a young adult man looked beneath the lotus waters with a silver gaze. Gently, as if the lake were something breakable, he dipped his hand in, and with an instinct and familiarity, Allen Walker held onto the collar of his partner.

With a grunt, the water-buried soul was pulled out of the lotuses, long hair freefalling and dusky eyes opening, softly, then gradually cooling into a hardened gaze. The wind bristled and blew warmly against the pair of ghosts.

Yu Kanda, his obsidian stare looking over the other, tensed, moving out of the other’s grip. Standing upright in the lake, Kanda saw Allen’s expression. As if something were ending.

With a murmur, the white ghost said that the town was coming for them. That it was better to go different ways. 

“I’ll go.” Allen whispered, the words falling from his lips on the other’s.

Kanda deepened the kiss, a hand on Allen’s hip. “For how long?”

“You want me to return?”

Shattering an unnoticeable peace, the obsidian ghost breathed, “No shit.”

“Then I’ll return.” Allen sunk into the lake with the other, his apparition form feeling nothing of the material world. All except for Kanda’s soul, which seared against him, deep in him, and it was all that was needed to feel riveted in their life after death.

With phrases moving from lips, to tongue, to skin, to fingertips, the ghosts pressed against rocks of weathered stone, lotuses surrounding their bodies, stripped like the trees in the wood.

Droplets rung like bells, as they dripped from their forms, that were made and bred to fight, not leave tender touches down the torso. Or lift and linger under thighs and calves.

Mouths made to scream, cough, and bleed, were instead moving gently from one side of the neck and shoulder, to the other.

Allen sat back on the rocks, a knee on either side of Kanda’s waist, as the man deflected every farewell the white ghost tried to say in a single breath and pant.

For the obsidian ghost, it didn’t matter that their wood was situated near paranoid townsfolk. To hell with them.  
No… it only mattered that there was a longing, constant and aching, that desired to be doused.

Allen Walker could disappear in the moonlight for an hour, but it’d feel like days when Kanda was deep beneath lotuses, alone. Yet the hour, feels like seconds, when the pale man returns. Always proving that any time apart was worth it.

With their breath hitching, the ghosts pressed closer, thrusting, holding against crumbling stone and roots. Undone, they call out each other’s names in a single exhale. Nothing loud, but raw and tender.

…

Abruptly, they hear yells and the crackle of fire against splintering wood.

Yu Kanda kisses down Allen’s collarbone as the white ghost turns his head towards the sounds.

“…Kanda…”

The said man ignored. He only thought of the clarity of bleached linen, and corruption of red ink, which painted Allen Walker.

“Kanda.” Sterner now, and urgent. But it only made Kanda reluctant and stubborn.

The orchestra of townspeople crying out at every shadow and flicker of movement, resonates through the feared wood. The townsfolk neared the lake slowly, the twigs under their boots snapping, giving their location away.

The two ghosts, so used to hunting and being hunted, are now haunting.

Yu Kanda haunts the lotus lake, and so he drowns back into the waters, watching Allen flee, fading in shadows.

He will return when the townspeople have given up searching.

But presently, Allen haunts the light of moons and stars, as well as the mind, soul, and heart of a lotus ghost, when he is gone.


End file.
